


Just 5 minutes, please?

by Insomne



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Keith (Voltron), Vaginal Fingering, drunk masturbation lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomne/pseuds/Insomne
Summary: He cups his cunt through his pants and squeezes before rubbing himself vigorously, mouth falling open in a sigh. His eyes flutter shut as he works himself to full hardness, where the pressure is unbearable and he’s struggling to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants as fast as possible. He barely manages to shove them down past his ass before he’s licking three fingers and squeezing his chub, alternating between pulling the hood back and forth and rubbing just under it with his index finger.Keith throws his head back, knocking it against the stall as a slew of curse words fall from his mouth in sing-song whispers.





	Just 5 minutes, please?

**Author's Note:**

> uhh looks like im writing again lol
> 
> sorry for the long ass hiatus and also if the writing makes zero sense at all,, depression has taken its toll and writing has become very difficult :’) but i’m in two zines now! so look out for those, i guess???
> 
> i asked for prompts on curiouscat w the intention to just write short drabbles, but i’ve always wanted to write keith drunkenly jerking off bc cough self projecting unto keith is fun so now we have a full fic
> 
> follow me on tw: @tequieroshiro for more stupid drabbles and threads on how much i love k(sh)eith! send me more shit on curiouscat!

Lance often brags about his alcohol tolerance; he credits his heritage. He reconciles with his siblings and, now of age, they take him out drinking and make fun of the fact he can't down three shots of tequila without coughing. 

 

He expresses his upset with the team during training with Voltron and the Atlas. It's not of major importance, so Veronica and Lance banter back and forth. Pidge thinks its stupid that Lance finds pride in his ability to drink, but Veronica tells her Lance is just the Cuban stereotype, which launches him into defending his honor-- otherwise known as the balls that hang between his skinny legs. Keith thinks thanking a long line of deceased alcoholics is satiric enough to not warrant a smart comment about his drinking.

 

“If you're really that upset about it,” Veronica’s teasing comes to a halt. “Marco founda bar downtown that sells Pitorro. It's a bit stronger, but if your tolerance is what you want to prove, it does the job!”

 

“Wait, isn't that like moonshine?” asks Pidge as a chorus of loud yeses comes from the red lion.

 

“He seems to handle Nunvill pretty well!” chirps Coran’s voice through the coms.

 

From the black lion, Keith sighs. “Can we concentrate on these exercises?” In front of them stands Altas, stoic and graceful as a goddess, holding a flag Voltron is supposed to catch in a limited amount of time. “We can talk about this later.”

 

“Only if you come to witness me beat her ass!” Lance yells. From the hologram on the control panel, Lance grins excitedly, eyes crazed with determination as Allura balks at his words.

 

“Why would I watch that?” Voltron stands still, waiting for movement Keith is getting tired of waiting for himself.

 

“You're our leader! Aren't you supposed to—”

 

“To what? Encourage unhealthy drinking?”

 

Veronica's voice comes through the speakers once more. “It's not unhealthy if he's only doing it once.” 

 

Lance yells indignantly, drowning out Pidge, who mutters about alcohol poisoning. 

 

“Comfort me during these trying times!” Lance begs. “Shiro would!”

 

Shiro, who's remained quiet up to now, chuckles through the coms. “He  _ is _ legal enough to do whatever he wants” 

 

Keith squints. 

 

“It'd be pretty funny to watch Lance try to flirt with Allura, too.” Hunk adds. “Oh, man! Imagine him try’na tell her she's pretty but he's just talking to a mop!”

 

“I would not!”

 

“Yes you would!”

 

“Enough!” The pounding in his head is getting unbearable and all Keith wants to do is finish these exercises. “If we finish, we'll go watch Lance make bad decisions!”

 

They finish a minute before the time limit.

 

Keith sighs.

  
  


As soon as Voltron had landed, Lance ran straight into the locker rooms, wooping and yipping at how he was going to outdrink his siblings and anyone else who dared challenge him. They showered and dressed quickly as Keith sat behind in the benches. When the last pair of footsteps echoed off, Keith began to undress, unzipping and peeling off the black bodysuit slicked with sweat. It flops on the floor with a smack next to the unclasped armor. 

 

Stepping under the cold spray from the shower head, he curses the cadets for using up all the warm water. He squirts soap between his hands and rubs them vigorously, lathering himself up in suds. Having his skin pin pricked by the cold, Keith runs his soapy palms up and down his chest, his fingers catching on the stiff nub of his nipples.

 

He rolls his lips. He has roughly an hour until Lance's thing… downtown is only a half hour away… he can work with this…

 

The tips of his fingers encircle his nipple, teasing the rim before pressing down with the heel of his palm. His eyelids droop, lips parting softly as his other hand roams his stomach, nails dragging and causing his muscles to jerk. His fingers go down, down, down, caressing a sea of dark curls and fleshy lips, and—

 

_ “Fuck.” _ The swear leaves his lips in a whisper he’s not aware of. 

 

His middle finger paws at his hood softly, barely touching it. Droplets of water cling to his eyelashes as he pulls it back and rubs at his pretty clit with his index, bringing the hand at his chest to support his weight against the shower wall. 

 

It’s been a while since he did this. What with fighting Lotor, bringing Shiro back and saving the Earth, getting off hasn’t been on the forefront of his mind. It’s not like he has all the time in the world now, but god _ damn  _ how he’s missed touching his body and making it feel good. 

 

“Keith!”

 

He jumps. With both palms now pressed to the wall to support his weight, he barks “ _ What?”  _ with a little too much bite. His head pounds in tandem with his clit, blood rushing fast and leaving a slight buzz in his ears.

 

“Hurry up, man!” Lance’s voice echoes through the room, and for a brief second, Keith wants it to echo from six feet under in a wooden crate. “We’re taking a car so we’re all not too drunk to drive back alone!”

 

“Fine! Jesus, stop yelling!” Keith rinses the rest of the soap off. “I’m coming.” 

 

Damn, how he wishes those words were true. 

  
  
  
  


More often than not, Keith wonders how such a small dick could pack so much lust and drive. As he dries off and dresses, he avoids his clit as much as possible while simultaneously wondering if he could spare just five minutes for the fastest jerk of his life. He flips the idea upside and down and side to side until the intrusive thought of Shiro coming in to check on him and catching him in the act taints the intention to simply relieve himself. 

 

His mouth parts with an exhale as the scene plays out in his head. The zipper of his pants goes up slowly, much slower than usual, and he revels in the touch his hand and the vibration gives him. He wonders if he could make it through the night like this, or if he should just back out of the plans and have a night in and cum to his body’s contentment. 

 

He presses the heel of his palm to his clothed cock and whines. 

 

_ “Jesus.”  _ He whispers to himself, twisting his wrists and adding pressure, knees almost buckling. His navel dips and he has to slam a hand against a locker to pull himself out of the fantasy. He stares down at his dick. “Why the fuck are you so horny  _ now  _ of all times?” 

 

His clit, the bastard, throbs in response. 

 

“Fuckin— whatever.” 

 

He grabs his jacket from the pile of clothes and dumps the rest into a crate in the corner of the room and heads out towards the parking lot, cursing at the chaffing of his jeans. Upon arriving, though, he curses at the universe and its existence. 

 

“I have to  _ what _ ?” His glare makes the wiggling eyebrows Hunk throws his way settle down into a frown. 

 

“There’s not a lot of space, so…” Hunk has always been a middle-man. He doesn’t take sides often, and lately he seems to care a lot about Keith’s comfort. Keith likes him. Hunk is good. But right now? His hormones want him dead. “We figured you’d be the most comfortable sitting in someone’s lap— esp-especially if it’s Shiro, right? I mean, Pidge also has to sit on Matt’s lap, and Romelle on Allura’s, and—“

 

He supposes this is normal. At least it  _ should  _ be. After Keith brought Shiro back from the Black Lion’s consciousness, they’d began to stand closer, sit without two inches of space between them, all until it progress into never being more than a foot apart. Some days Shiro would look at Keith and jerk his head to the side to signal him to step closer, almost breathing in each other’s space. Other days Shiro got so overwhelmed he couldn’t handle much more than a hand on his wrist. 

 

Keith understood this. Keith was the only one allowed to do this with Shiro. He supposes it’s what people do when they become something— ambiguous and undefinable, but definitely  _ something _ . 

 

Keith’s eyebrow twitches, but his mouth exhales heavily and says, “Okay.”

 

Hunk’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

 

“Okay.” It’s all Keith can offer before he endures the horniest and most desperate (roughly) thirty minutes of his life. He hopes it’s less, and for once today, his cunt agrees. 

 

Shiro, an angel, truly, offers an apologetic smile as Keith duck and steps into the car. He’s about to forgive him and Hunk as he gets a good look at what Shiro’s wearing— all dressed down casually in a tight, white long-sleeve and gray jeans, so simple yet so attractive— but then he spreads his thick thighs and pats them with his hand as an invitation and Keith’s brain shortcuts. His body sits itself quite comfortably on Shiro’s lap, regardless of the emotional breakdown the brain must be going through, and even goes as far as arching his spine slightly when Shiro places a big warm hand on his hip to keep him in place.

 

Being attracted to Shiro has always been something Keith’s been aware of since the moment the man recruited him for the Garrison. Watching him grow up and mature as Keith himself did was a blessing he wasn’t aware of until it was ripped away from him in cold red letters that spelt out **_PILOT ERROR_** , and twice more in space when Black had taken him and Haggar had used him against it. He’d do anything for this man— _has_ _done_ everything for him— just to see him smile, even if it wasn’t directed at him. 

 

But as the car hits little bumps of debris on the road, Keith cannot, for the life in him, stop himself from thinking about how hot the hand on his hip is. He wonders if its his imagination of if Shiro’s thumb is rubbing circles over his shirt, digging its way under it to touch his skin. 

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

His eyelids flutter as he shifts slightly in his lap. Shiro chuckles softly and mumbles an apology, spreading his thighs wider as to accommodate Keith more comfortably. 

 

His dick is now behind his ass.

 

I could move again, Keith thinks… apologize and laugh it off as an innocent and pure shift… grind down on his lap, feel his cock get harder with every roll of our hips, feel him thrust up and dry hump me right in front of a car full of people… finish dry in our clothes—

 

_ Holy  _ **_fuck._ **

 

“Hmm?” Shiro leans forward. “Did you say something?” 

 

Keith’s tongue turns to sand and he shakes his head in lieu of words, knuckles turning white as he grips the shoulders of the seat in front of him. His cunt throbs painfully and he tries to think of Shiro angry at him in hopes of turning himself off, but even that warrants another throb in attention. 

 

He sighs. It’ll be a long half hour. 

  
  
  
  


Seeing an  _ Open!  _ neon sign in the middle of the desert has never felt so good as it did then. 

 

As soon as the car door opens and Matt and Pidge get off, Keith bolts outside and takes a few leaps before wincing with his hands on his hips as if he’s just run five miles at full force. Lance teases him and says the car ride couldn’t have been that bad, what with the perfect seat they’d managed to score him, but he didn’t have to endure Shiro drumming his thick fingers on his hip bone or every bump in the road making him jump right on his cock, leaning forward, pressing his beefy chest along Keith’s spine and whispering into his ear if he’s okay and if he’s comfortable, so Keith shoves his middle finger between his nose and eye and hopes it annoys Lance for the rest of the night.

 

When his hand is batted away, he steps back and says, “I gotta pee, I’ll be right back,” in hopes of finally,  _ finally  _ satisfying himself, but the skinny asshole grabs his wrist in a vice grip and hauls him back towards the bar. 

 

“You are  _ not  _ breaking the seal so early!” 

 

Keith wonders why he decided to ever befriend him.

 

Ten minutes into Veronica, Matt and Lance thinking over the list of shots to take, Luis and Marco show up with loud laughter and familial warmth. One of them punches Lance’s shoulder as the other one says hello, kissing cheeks and hugging briefly. Keith, who’s never quite been comfortable with physical affection, even just as a greeting or farewell, finds himself wanting the older McClain to hug and kiss him hello as well, and the realization that his blood now drums  _ touch me, touch me, touch me _ makes him wince. 

 

“You okay?” Once again, Shiro’s voice comes from behind him to ask that stupid question. “You look a little red. Do you want some water?”

 

Keith shakes his head. “Alcohol.”

 

“What?” 

 

He flags down the bartender and asks for the Pitorro Veronica had spoken about. The man tells him the glasses hold three shots, not one, but Keith waves him off in a hurry and, once the shot is placed in front of him, he downs it in one toss of his head. 

 

“Now  _ that’s  _ how you drink!” He hears Matt tell Lance in the background, but Keith is too busy wiping his mouth and swallowing the flame that pours down his throat and settles into his chest. 

 

Shiro raises his eyebrows at him, and Keith shrugs. “Long day.” 

 

“More like long months.”

  
  
  
  


Three shots turn to six, and soon they turn to fifteen. At most, Keith seems barely tipsy, and Pidge wonders if it’s a Galra thing. She and Allura shoot into a discussion about alien alcohol tolerance, albeit a little too giggly and loud, and Romelle, though fully sober, contributes to their laughter.

 

Shiro sits on a stool beside Keith’s and nurses some neon blue drink Keith is sure he’s seen on some planet while on a mission for the Blades. His thighs are spread, posture lazy as he lounges casually and holds a conversation with Matt from across the bar with Keith seated in the middle. He’s got a foot hooked on Keith’s stool and he supposes this is a thing that happens now. Shiro being in Keith’s personal bubble wasn’t anything new, and it shouldn’t be a surprise now, especially after everything they went through, but all at once, the distance between his shin and Keith’s thigh hits Keith at full force with the alcohol. He swallows and grips the counter as a wave of lust slams behind his navel, reminding his clit what it’s wanted for the past two hours. 

 

Shiro gives him a look that Keith counters with an, “I’m fine. Just need ta’ go to the bathroom.” 

 

One of the McClain brothers calls out how he should take it slow, since it’ll hit harder once he stands, but Keith waves him off as well. It isn’t his first time drinking, he says. It is, however, his first time drinking  _ this  _ much while his body is keyed up and horny over every single movement Shiro innocently makes, but he’d rather cut his tongue off than say that now.

 

On his way to the bathroom, he wonders briefly if he should feel guilty for viewing Shiro in this light when the man was probably still trying to adjust to being in a body that should’ve always and only belonged to him, but then he wonders how fat his cock is and how good it’d feel between his thighs and his step picks up a little bit without remorse. 

 

He slams his palms into the door and swings it open, heading straight for the sink. He grips the edges tightly as he stares at himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side and scrunching his eyebrows. His head floats a bit the more he stares, and when he suddenly opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to stare at himself like that, it hits him how drunk he truly is. 

 

Or maybe it’s when he leans forward to stand closer to the mirror and his hips knock against the sink. 

 

Blood rushes to his clit at the feeling of something against his lower half, and against his better judgement, he balances himself on the ball of his feet and presses his mound to the cold porcelain. His jaw drops as he grinds against it for a while, pleasure washing over his body in waves at the few sweet rolls of his hips. His chubby cock catches on the edge and the hood is pulled back by it, the cloth of his underwear harsh against his bare clit. He licks his lips and adjusts his position on the sink, and just as the build behind his navel pushes towards a pleasure worthy of chasing after desperately, the stall door on the other side of the restroom opens. 

 

Keith jerks back with a hand over his mouth, swearing up and down at how he’s bound to destroy the universe before the Galra ever could. 

 

He walks in circles for a bit, hoping to redirect the throbbing in his temples and cock for even just a minute, but then the person who had stepped out of the stall looks at him through the sink mirror and goes, “Hey, aren’t you that guy from Voltron?”

 

Keith turns to face then and gives a blank stare.

 

“K-Keith… right?” They ask again, smile turning hesitant. “From Voltron? The big—“

 

“Yeah,” Keith cuts him off. “Yup. That’s, uh… that’s me. Big rainbow robot.” 

 

The person chuckles and extends a wet hand. Keith shakes it and nods respectfully. 

 

“Crazy,” they shake their head in disbelief, “Didn’t think I’d meet you in a pub bathroom of all places.” Keith offers a short chuckle, not knowing what else to say. He eyes the bathroom stalls through the mirror and the other patron nods. “Oh! I’ll- I’ll see you around, yeah?”

 

“Sure,” Keith wipes his offered palm on the back of his jeans, grateful for the universal sign of  _ leave me alone, I need to piss. _

 

The person smiles excitedly and leaves with an ecstatic expression. Keith waits for the door to swing fully closed before he walks backwards until his back slams a stall wide open. 

 

“Just not in the next twenty minutes.” He says to himself as he hurriedly locks the door and leans against it. 

 

He cups his cunt through his pants and squeezes before rubbing himself vigorously, mouth falling open in a sigh. His eyes flutter shut as he works himself to full hardness, where the pressure is unbearable and he’s struggling to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants as fast as possible. He barely manages to shove them down past his ass before he’s licking three fingers and squeezing his chub, alternating between pulling the hood back and forth and rubbing just under it with his index finger. 

 

Keith throws his head back, knocking it against the stall as a slew of curse words fall from his mouth in sing-song whispers. 

 

His underwear is soaked through, the drunken lust adding to the slick already there from the locker rooms and ride on Shiro’s lap, and the thought makes him bit his lip to hold back a moan. 

 

Oh, how good it’d feel to ride Shiro’s lap. To straddle his thigh, naked and bare for him, and spread his slick over his gray pants and make a mess. Maybe Shiro would squeeze his ass while he grinded… maybe he’s tell him he was a good boy and jerk off his fat little cock, thrust thick fingers and make him ride them too…

 

“Sh _ -it!” _ Keith hisses. He needs something in him now, now,  _ now. _

 

His knees buckle and he leans his full weight against the rickety door and prays it won’t fall, and shoves his middle fingers into his mouth, tongue twisting around them, coating them in saliva. Keith is sure that the amount of alcohol consumed doesn’t help, nevertheless the sugar in them, but he makes them drip in spit before shoving his fingers down and rubbing against the slick entrance of his cunt. 

 

_ Haah _ ’s and  _ oh, fuck _ ’s fill the bathroom as he rubs and jerks himself off to thoughts of Shiro watching him fall apart on his leg. He’s dipping two fingers inside and curling them at once, tapping at the spongy bundle of nerves that make his stomach flip. Both hands pick up their pace immediately after, and Keith twists and arch’s off the door, toes curling in his shoes hard enough to hurt. 

 

He’s close. Fuck, he’s so close. His right thigh starts to tremble and his hips roll down to fuck his fingers, to ride them while also trying to fuck into his other hand and it’s too much, it’s too hot. Both his legs tremble now and he’s doubling over at his orgasm hits him hard enough to turn his vision white. 

 

The hand at his clit slams against the wall. He leans on it as he rides his climax out on his fingers, fat pearly drops on cum dripping through the cracks and into his dirty underwear. 

 

The bathroom smells like sex, no doubt, and maybe it’s his drunken state of mind, or maybe it’s simply because he hasn’t been this horny in a while, but damn, he finds it so hot. He thinks of what it’d be like to have a quicky in a shitty bar bathroom stall, the desperation and slapping of skin as he’s fucked into a graffitied wall. 

 

Keith wipes the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his wrist and keeps it there, breathing heavy as he cards his fingers through the mess of his cunt and chubby lips.

  
The bathroom door swings open again, and Keith feels just a little more stable than he did before, but then he hears the infamous, “Keith? You okay?” and all he can think of is  _ shit. _

**Author's Note:**

> also on privateer if you, for some reason, wanna keep this forever in your google docs lol 
> 
> https://privatter.net/p/4182717
> 
> (i cant do links on ao3 so forgive me lolol just copy and paste it)


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